


A Hunter Provides

by Florville, Scarletpath



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Wendigo, Wendigo Matthew, Werecat Francis, inexperienced partner, wendigo food
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florville/pseuds/Florville, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarletpath/pseuds/Scarletpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every hunter is searching for prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Hunter Provides

**Author's Note:**

> From Florville: This story evolved from a roleplay that my dear friend Scarletpath and I are doing together (some people know us as the tag team behind Sandalwood and Roses ^_^). It’s pretty much an Alternate Universe story where Canada and France are shapeshifters instead of countries. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> From Scarletpath: I'm excited about helping put this story out so that everyone can read it. With S&R already gaining more popularity, I can't wait to see what others will think of this. I hope that all of you enjoy our hard work.
> 
> http://animal-backgrounds.com/files/Cougar/animal-cougar-hd-wallpaper.jpg As a handy reference, this is exactly what Francis looks like in the story. ^_^ And if you are curious as to what Matthew looks like in wendigo form, MapleVogel from Tumblr has done some amazing stuff.
> 
> SUPER IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER THING: um...wendigos eat humans. So if Canada eating (already dead) people meat is something that would bother you, please stay away.

The sound of the circular grinding stone cut through the quiet village; a tall figure was hunched over it, spinning it with the foot pedal. A long hunting knife was in his hands, and he brought the blade down against the rough stone with practiced skill, his focus on the sharpening edge. The grating sound of metal grinding against stone was soothing for him…it kept his mind occupied. 

Bringing the knife up, he ran his thumb over the blade, smiling at its sharpness. It was nice to keep his hunting tools sharp, even though he didn’t really need them. The guns, traps, bows and arrows…. They were all just for appearance. Oh, he was a hunter. He did tan the hides, sold the furs and the meat. He did this because he wanted the humans to think that he was one of them. 

When he had first arrived, his thinner form, pale skin and odd violet eyes had spooked the villagers. They would avoid him, clutching their religious accessories close to their bodies. Though, after finding out that silver and religious practices didn’t do anything to him, they came to the conclusion that he was just a poor soul that was unfortunate enough to be born with such an appearance. 

That memory always caused him to smirk and chuckle to himself. Of course, these newer practices that were brought over from the eastern world wouldn’t work on him. He was a Wendigo.

With the world changing, getting bigger and more advanced, Matthew’s life as a Wendigo was getting harder. Humans rarely ventured out into the wilderness, preferring to live in villages and cities made of stone and brick. People from all around the world and across the land now could travel with ease on large wooden boats and carriages. There was only one thing a hunter could do when the food supply was becoming scarce: adapt. 

It was hard at first. People were becoming more aware of what really went bump in the night. People knew how to protect themselves from the supernatural, and monster hunters had begun to pop up all over. With the expansion of human travel, it was only natural for the monsters and creatures to follow close behind. Matthew had to be careful not to blow his cover. Painstakingly, he watched and learned from the humans, gaining the ability to take on a more human-looking form. It took some time, but he managed to put his wild life behind him and live a more ‘normal’ life. 

Well, ‘normal’ from an outsider’s point of view. 

You see, Matthew realised that his hunting grounds had become a farm. The village was more like his flock, and the humans didn’t even know it. However, he didn’t go around grabbing the nearest human to feast on—he made sure that whoever he picked was someone that no one would miss, or someone stupid enough to put them in danger. With a plentiful food source, his hunger didn’t bother him. He had learned to take portions and preserve the humans he took, eating normal food if he was just hungry, and human flesh when his true hunger kicked in.

As he was looking over his sharpened knife, Matthew felt a strong pulse emerge from deep within his chest. The shock caused him to drop the knife, his purple eyes widening as he realised what was wrong. His head quickly turned towards the mountains, in the direction where he had placed his heart. 

**

Francis wasn’t exactly hungry at the moment, but a strange scent had drawn him higher up into the mountains than he would usually stray. Having gorged himself on a kill, he’d been looking for a spot to hole up and groom himself from head to toe and then nap for a while. That was when he’d gotten a whiff of it: it was like blood and magic mixed together…and, being an inherently nosy individual, Francis couldn’t resist investigating.

The scent took him higher and higher, until he was padding through a thin blanket of crisp snow, breaths curling from his muzzle in a swirling vapour as he moved. He was almost there…

Reaching the mouth of the ice cave that the smell was emanating from was certainly no easy task, requiring him to weave and slither through crevices…but each wriggle and scrape only heightened his belief that whatever was in here was definitely something special, if its owner was going to such great lengths to protect it.

When he reached the bottom, Francis’ nostrils flared slightly as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the miniscule amount of daylight that crept down through the cracks and crevices above him. He could hear a soft pulsing sound…a heartbeat. But he did not smell hair, or flesh, or anything else that denoted a living creature. Only blood, and magic.

His ears laid back and then pricked forward slightly as he was finally able to visually make out what was making the noise, the darker brown tip of his tail twitching from side to side as he padded towards the heart within the ice, a wry smirk curving his muzzle. Well…this was an interesting discovery, indeed. Only a very powerful creature could live with its heart outside of its body like this…and he’d been so very bored, lately. It might be fun to have someone else to play with, as normal humans and other mortal species were far too uptight to interact with him once they learned what he really was.

Hopping up onto the surface of the ice block, Francis plopped down and began to groom himself, licking the blood stains from his tawny fur and then stretching, whiskers twitching as he sensed something approaching. For sheer amusement value, he dipped his head and began to run his rough tongue over the surface of the ice, feeling a bizarre tingly sensation as he licked up a combination of ice and magic at the same time. It was almost arousing…

Instantly Matthew was on his feet, running off in the direction of the mountain. Once he was out of sight of the villagers’ eyes, his limbs stretched out and grew into long, skinny appendages. His hands morphed and changed into long clawed fingers. The long, blonde waves of his hair parted in two places on top of his skull as long, twisted, branch-like horns burst forth, a loud snarl escaping him as he ran as fast as he could. The clothes that were on his body were tightly stretched over him, but that didn’t slow him down. Trees and rocks passed him at blinding speed as he dashed and climbed up the side of the mountain. Nothing could stop the pace he was at.

It was only a matter of minutes before he stood at the foot of the cave opening. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he could smell blood and… a cat? No, he knew that wasn’t right. He didn’t need light to help him navigate the cave. He knew this place like the back of his hand. A tingle went right through his body, causing him to shudder. The sensation caused him to gasp out, his hand gripping the side of the cave wall, his eyes widening. What was happening to his heart?! Turning around the corner, he entered the end of the cave and he was greeted by the sight of someone licking his most vital organ. His body twitched as a low growling whine left him. If he wasn’t in this state, he would be screaming at him.

Francis stopped licking the ice when the heart’s owner arrived, licking his lips and grinning as he flopped onto his side. He draped himself over the edge of the ice block in a lazy display of sensuality, canines bright white as he yawned widely, stretching his front paws out a little in the manner of a housecat basking in a nice sunbeam.

“You know…it really isn’t very wise to have something this important sitting in a cave where someone can just happen upon it,” he said by way of introduction, the beginnings of a purr rumbling in his throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Matthew hissed, his purple eyes seeming to glow within the darkness. “Leave my heart alone!” 

Francis pouted a little, then slid down off of the ice block in a sensual, fluid motion, landing silently on his paws and padding over to the other creature. He could sense the anxiety in the other being; indeed, he could smell it coming off of him, and as such, felt a need to put him at ease. After all, he only wanted to manipulate the other being into playing with him; he didn’t want to genuinely _hurt_ him.

Purring a little louder, Francis rubbed his head against the creature’s shoulder, then stroked the entirety of his lithe body along the others’ in a slow circle, coming around to the front again and sitting down on his haunches.

Matthew stood his ground as the feline creature approached, muscles tensing as he felt his touch. His eyes followed the other’s movements, his lips threatening to pull back and reveal his long teeth. 

Francis’ whiskers twitched slightly in amusement at the way the other creature’s gaze remained fixed on him. “I could smell your magic, and was curious. You know…you really ought to have someone guard your heart while you are away hunting.” He began to groom one paw nonchalantly, ivory claws glinting faintly in the darkness as if to suggest how good a guardian he would prove to be. “Humans can be very persistent when they want to destroy something they do not understand, after all. It’s why I gave up living in villages a while ago.” He set his paw down, his tail flicking slightly. “Though I may go back to it someday, if I remain as bored as I have been lately.”

“I left it here so that no one would get it,” Matthew replied. “Why should I trust you?” His hand flexed his clawed fingers as he wondered if it would be necessary to cut the other down. It wouldn’t be hard…but the other didn’t come across as aggressive. He wasn’t overly surprised by the other shifter’s words; he knew all too well about the hard life that being a non-human could be. Some were luckier than others.

“You must be _very_ bored, trying to meet me without the fear of me attacking you. Did you even bother to figure out who you would be dealing with?” He couldn’t help being curious. Most of his existence, he was used to others shying away from him or being afraid of him—not being friendly and forward like this one.

“I knew that you would be a shapeshifter of some kind,” Francis replied, setting his paw down and beginning to lick at the other paw, grooming it thoroughly and then setting it down before continuing, “and I knew that you would be one that is much more powerful than I.” His blue eyes glinted in the low light as he held the other creature’s gaze. “And since you have not attacked me yet, I know that you are not newly changed. You have control over your non-human form, which means you have had it for long enough to get accustomed to thinking and feeling while you are in it.” 

Francis moved closer, licking the fine coat of fur on the other creature’s cheek, still purring in his throat, though the sound was more breathy as he groomed him. “I can also tell that you do not know how to groom yourself while you are in that form, which tells me you are not yet old enough to have accepted it completely,” he mused, his sandpapery tongue straightening the wendigo’s fur as he licked it.

This one was quite observant; that, Matthew could give him. But the other was a cat…it was in their nature for them to be perceptive. Since only Matthew knew of the location of his heart, he knew that the other had found it by chance. He couldn’t be mad at him for that, as long as he left his heart alone. As the large cat moved towards him, he was a little surprised by the lack of personal space. Matthew jerked his head to the side as the cat’s rough tongue ran over his face.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?!” His hands came up to push the other away. Matthew really wasn’t used to contact with others…he wasn’t very social. “I don’t need to groom myself,” he grumbled. The only time he ever licked himself was to lick the delicious blood off of his fur.

“Your fur is sticking together, have you no pride?” Francis quipped, amused by the other creature’s grumbling, finding it remarkably cute, as well as an encouraging sign that the other wasn’t going to lash out at him. At least, not yet. He began to lick at the hand that had pushed his face away, his blue eyes calm as they fixed intently on the wendigo’s luminous ones. “I know that you are alone, also,” he pressed softly. “Because you have no-one who will guard your life. The speed with which you came here tells me, my fellow, that you would die if some harm came to this block of ice. That means that you need a friend who is willing to guard it for you, to make sure that even if someone does find it, they will be stopped before they reach it.” He began to groom the other shifter’s forearm, still purring away in his throat. “I am Francis.” 

Watching as the large feline licked his hand, Matthew noticed that looking into the blue orbs of his eyes calmed him down a bit. No one had ever looked at him like that before, especially in this form. His fingers twitched at the attention, actually trying to be careful not to accidentally scratch the other. As weird as this attention was, he was a little bit too lonely to object to it. 

The other shifters’ words had hit him hard. All his life, he had been so focused on doing things on his own…never had he actually spoken to someone who knew what he was. His gaze fell slightly, watching as the other moved his grooming down to his arm.

“I’m…. Matthew,” he murmured, his voice coming out more like an airy whisper. “Why are you doing this? Why would you want to help something like me?” the wendigo inquired, wanting to know the motivation for Francis’ generosity.

The cat’s sapphire eyes went icy as they turned sharply on the other creature, and Francis growled. “You are not a _thing,”_ he snapped, batting the wendigo lightly with his paw, although he kept his claws carefully sheathed. “You are some _one._ And you are alone, like me. Is it not enough, to not want to be alone?” 

Realising that he had given away a little of himself with that statement, Francis sniffed, whiskers flicking irritably as his ears pinned back in an obvious sulk for a few seconds before a series of barking laughs bubbled up from his throat. “Ah, you have made Big Brother say too much about himself,” he mused, putting his paw on top of Matthew’s head and rubbing it playfully. “Regardless, I do not want to be lonely, and you could benefit from my skill at guarding valuable hearts. Perhaps we can help each other, oui?” He leaned in and began to groom Matthew’s neck. “You have bits of moss stuck in your fur from running through the woods,” he muttered, a half-truth, as there really wasn’t any in the fur he was currently licking. “And grooming is a social behaviour. You should be social, because I am your friend now.”

The other’s reaction had come as a bit of a surprise, as Matthew wasn’t used to being caught off guard. For once, he felt like a little kid. Even though his heart was separate from his chest, he could feel the beginning twinges of emotional vulnerability, and he really didn’t know what to do in this type of situation; although, the other seemed to know what to do. Matthew couldn’t help but allow a small smile to pull across his lips as his head was petted. Slowly, his eyes closed when Francis leaned in close to his neck. He should have been frightened at having a large cat so close to a vital part of his body, but Matthew wanted to allow the other closer. Francis didn’t attack him; and he, in return, showed that he was beginning to trust the other. His neck arched slightly as he started to enjoy the other’s attentions.

“I… don’t like being lonely.” Matthew confessed. Hearing Francis calling himself ‘Big Brother’, made him think of family…something he had long since forgotten and lacked. A small sound of uncertainty then left him. Francis was now saying that they were friends. But could two people make friends this fast? The title also stunned him as well. That meant that Francis wanted to be his friend. 

“I, uh…” He really didn’t know how to be social, especially physically like this. His hand moved with uncertainty, up to the side of Francis’ head. Stroking the soft fur, he cupped the other’s face and wrapped his thumb and finger around Francis’ ear, giving it a massaging, gentle tug.

“I really don’t know what to do.”

And just like that, Francis was slapped in the face with the selfishness of his own ambition. When he’d slipped down into this ice cave, he’d had a plan of manipulating whatever powerful being the heart belonged to into catering to his whims. He hadn’t expected to be confronted with a powerful being so naïve and vulnerable…

The feline erupted into grating laughter at the irony of the whole situation. His offer to ‘protect’ the heart in exchange for favours had originally been a ruse to get what he wanted for a while, but now it turned out that the wendigo really _did_ need protecting. Most of all, from beings who were not just like Francis—but who were actually base enough to take advantage of the other creature’s naivety and use it to destroy him. Maybe he really did have a big brother complex…or maybe it was just that he didn’t have the heart to destroy someone so inherently innocent.

He was brought back to himself at the feel of those long, clawed fingers cupping his face, and he met the luminescent eyes that were gazing into his own with an uncertainty that was far too adorable. He sighed at the stroking to his ear, leaning into it a little and grunting.

“It is I who does not know what to do, little one,” he grumbled, smiling and looking into the wendigo’s eyes. “Big brother did not expect to find someone so sweet and disarming in this cave, let alone someone who really _does_ need to be protected. It seems I have gotten more than I bargained for, though it serves me right for coming into this cave with such selfish motives.” He lifted a paw, wrapping it loosely around the wendigo’s shoulders to draw him into a hug, resting his large head on Matthew’s shoulder and huffing a little. “I must protect you now, because to do otherwise would be dishonourable.”

Maybe it was the cat’s charisma; or maybe it was his newfound desire to have someone around that could understand him, but Matthew trusted the other. A Wendigo’s mind was always wreaked with the insanity that hunger brought…satisfying the hunger was more important than keeping company. Though, with his new life, hiding in plain sight with the humans, he was no longer plagued by his horrible hunger. With the mix of eating normal food when he was hungry, and a human here and there whenever his true hunger hit him, it was more than enough for him to feel at peace. With his mind clear, new thoughts and desires would come to him; but when he met Francis, it was only then he realised just how lonely he was, and how it left a bigger hole in his chest than his missing heart.

But he hadn’t realised that he would be tricked, blackmailed into looking after the other—Matthew would sooner have expected a human to do such a thing. Perhaps he was a little naïve…maybe a part of him wanted something normal in his life, instead of the fake smiles and the forced conversations he had with the humans. 

Confusion arose inside of him, and there was something else he hadn’t felt before: it hurt a bit. His eyebrows pushed forward, and he tilted his head slightly. Matthew was still as he was pulled into the hug, remaining silent as he tried to process everything. Negative and positive feelings pulled at his mind. Anger for the attempted betrayal, but happiness for finding someone who wanted to be around him. His lips twitched as his teeth clenched tightly together. Hands came up and pushed the other off of him. Matthew took a few steps back, looking at the other with a mix of pain and anger.

“You…were going to use me?” His voice came out as a harsh whisper. He staggered slightly, lifting one hand up to grip at his scalp. He was confused. He didn’t know what to feel or how to react.

On his guard the moment he was pushed away, Francis prepared to flee, hesitating at the look of hurt in those glittering eyes. His ears drooped sheepishly and he lowered his gaze, crouching low to the ground as a sign of submission and gazing sadly at the stone beneath his paws. “Humans do not accept me once they find out what I am,” he said softly, lifting his head a little. It was not often any longer that his blue eyes held such a clear window into his troubled soul; at this moment, they held a deep and genuine remorse, as well as a plea for understanding. “And I have learned that other shapeshifters will not bother with me unless I have something that they want.” 

Slowly, the hand on Matthew’s head trailed down to his face, one eye peering through the space of his fingers. Normally, a Wendigo would kill anything that posed a threat, and his mind was not used to being tricked; especially by someone who wasn’t human. Matthew let his hand fall away from his face, both arms hanging down at his sides. His eyes slipped closed as Francis spoke, and he breathed in deeply through his nose, narrowing his focus. Matthew listened to the sound of Francis’ voice, the rate of the beating of his heart. Words were not enough for him to trust the other. 

The feline shifter hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Since I have been turned out of every village I have tried to call home…I have very little to offer. So I must use my wiles to try and gain companionship here and there. It is not the kind of relationship I want…but it is better than loneliness and boredom.” Francis sat up a little and curled his tail around himself, looking down at his paws for a moment before lifting one slightly and looking wistfully at the pale pink pads. “I want to be valued by someone…to be liked, or even loved. But this curse…it has robbed me of every opportunity so far. Yet…I cannot bring myself to stop searching.” Francis set his paw down, lifting his head and looking at Matthew steadily, ears still lowered in a submissive fashion. “I hope that you can forgive me, for thinking that you would be like all the rest, and that I would have to manipulate you to get what I needed. You are not like the others I have met at all…” he trailed off, wondering if honesty really had been the best course of action, or if he would be sent tearing out of the cave with his fur flying behind him. It wouldn’t be the first time… 

Matthew’s anger gradually dissipated as he listened to the other’s familiar-sounding fate. As Francis’ heartbeat slowed down, Matthew confirmed to himself that the other was being truthful. As a natural hunter—one of the best, as Wendigos are—he knew how hard it was for one to survive. It was depressing him, knowing that this magnificent cat-person was reduced to being a scavenger. It was a horrible fate. Opening his eyes, Matthew relaxed, the last of his anger gradually fading from his expression. The wendigo met Francis’ eyes, and couldn’t help noticing how the pain in them reflected his own.

“The world is a cruel place, even without us living in it.” Matthew said softly, gazing down at his clawed hand. He didn’t know if he could tell the other to leave, because deep down, he knew that he would regret it in the future. “I…forgive you. Only because you were trying to survive. Don’t trick me ever again.” He had to respect the other for doing something so dangerous.

Francis tensed and blinked at the other, utterly stunned. Again, the encounter was going in a way that he would never have expected. He was not used to being forgiven, and the sensation of relief that washed over him was so overwhelming and so foreign that he wasn’t sure how to react. He nodded blankly at the wendigo’s words…he wouldn’t try to trick Matthew again. It would not only be extremely foolhardy to try, Francis also had no desire to do so. He did not have the heart to cause harm to a being so vulnerable. Not intentionally.

Still feeling overwhelmed by the knowledge that he had apologized and had been forgiven, Francis approached, his demeanour still apologetic as he lowered his head and rubbed his chin against the clawed hand Matthew was gazing at, his rasping tongue darting out to lap at his palm. 

Matthew didn’t bother looking up at the other when he heard silence. In fact, he welcomed the lack of noise. It made everything feel solid—that what had happened was real. Hearing the soft pats of Francis moving, he half-expected the other to leave him. Instead, he felt a bump to his hand. At first, his hand flinched, feeling that rough tongue lick his palm, but soon he felt drawn to pet the other. Slowly, his hand stroked the top of Francis’ head, petting him slowly, as anyone would do with a cat. Looking down at the other, seeing how sorry he looked, he could only think of one thing.

A hunter provides.

That thought was powerful. There were laws, rules about hunting that most humans forgot about. It was hardwired into him and he couldn’t ignore the need to follow them. Perhaps…they could help each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter! I promise the updates will be more regular now that exams are done and I'll be coming home in nine days. ^^; So much love to our anonymous commenter, and to everyone who has left kudos. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Two

“Do you need a place to stay?” Matthew asked softly, his focus mostly on petting the other gently.

Francis had begun to purr softly at the petting, feeling his heart warm toward the other being as he leaned into Matthew’s touch. The question permeated his blissful contentment, and his head jerked up when the words finally penetrated his brain, dislodging the other shifter’s hand. His ears twitched back, then forward, his gaze uncertain. “I…have offered to protect this place for you,” he murmured, taken so off guard by the offer of a place to stay that he found himself fumbling for words. “Should I not stay here…?” Shaking himself abruptly, trying to get a handle on his previous calm, suave demeanour, Francis straightened his posture. “And really, what would you do with a two hundred pound wildcat, hm? It is not the sort of thing you can sneak into a village, or hide easily once he is there.” Of course…he wasn’t going to say that his heart ached to accept the offer, to have a roof over his head and a warm bed to sleep in for a few nights…he was just so used to those sorts of things ending badly, and Francis already treasured this rare friendship too dearly to jeopardize it.

Matthew could tell that Francis wanted to accept his offer…and in truth, he wasn’t really worried about his heart. In all the time that his heart had been hidden here, Francis was the only one who had managed to make it this far. If he wanted to, Matthew could encase this entire section of the cave in ice, making it nearly impossible for anyone to break in, and giving him more than enough time to arrive and deal with the pest. Thus, Matthew lightly shook his head in response to Francis’ fretting; he really didn’t want to come here every time to visit him…he wanted him around all the time. 

“I’m a hunter in the village. I sell the meat and furs I get. You could just play dead, and I could easily take you to my place,” he mused, not worried in the least about taking the other with him. “I worked hard to make myself a good name in the people’s minds. I got a man to build me a nice house. All I promised him was a lifetime of free meat. Not even a challenge for me.” He couldn’t help but grin, revealing his long, sharp teeth in a non-threatening way.

Francis felt his heart soar at the thought that there was a way he could be convincingly brought into a village, as well as having a roof over his head and someone to stay with. Matthew must truly want him around, to offer such a thing. His furry chest expanded a little with happiness, though he listened intently as the other spoke. 

“Though…” Matt continued, this time a little curious. “Can you not change your form? After you arrive?” The other did say he was a shape shifter…

Francis flinched slightly at the question, averting his gaze. “When I last took this form, I discarded my clothing because I had decided I would remain in cat form permanently,” he mumbled. “So…I have not changed to my human form in several years. When I do transform, I will be naked, and undoubtedly in dire need of a bath.” He wasn’t going to mention that he probably wasn’t much to look at either, due to the horrible scars left on his body from when he’d been turned into a lycanthrope. At least in cat form, his fur concealed them. Francis was a very vain thing, after all. 

Matthew shrugged at the words; he wasn’t at all concerned about having to clean Francis up and give him a new set of clothes. He’d seen naked bodies before…well, ones that were not alive…so he felt that a naked Francis wouldn’t bother him much. He was already nodding, picturing the ways he could work around this change of events. It wouldn’t be hard to convince the villagers that the new man living with him was a family member, or someone he found to help him with his business. Matthew also couldn’t help being a bit curious as to what the other would look like in his human form; though, in a way, Francis must feel the same way about him.

Seeing that the blonde was weighing some undisclosed options in his head, Francis looked down at his paws for a moment. “I…can change to my human form once we are safely in your home, if that is what you wish,” Francis ventured, glancing back up at Matthew as though he were contemplating him for a moment, before offering hesitantly, “and I am a good cook…if you should like me to earn my keep, somehow, I am excellent at cooking.”

Matt’s head turned to the side at that. Normally, he didn’t cook. He only cared about filling his stomach, not the taste of food. Though, a plump lady in the village, one he took note to never place on the menu, owned a bakery and made these delicious sweet flatbreads… Other than that, he had never even cared about the taste of food. 

Well…he never tried to.

“I guess that would work,” the younger shifter confessed with a smile. “I’m sure we’ll think of some things you can do around the place.” The look on Matt’s face showed that he wasn’t too concerned about what Francis could do.

Francis could sense a hint of interest at the mention of his cooking, a glint in those luminescent eyes that told him that, while the other didn’t find food preparation a chore that merited his own attention, he just might appreciate fine cuisine if someone else were to prepare it.

Looking upward, Francis made a pensive noise. “So…I am to play dead, am I?” He tilted his head, his gaze falling back on the other being. “Are you certain you can carry me in this form?” Another thought occurred to him, and one ear turned back slightly. “And are any of your townsfolk perceptive enough to notice that I will not be wounded?”

A chuckle left the wendigo’s throat at the other's concern about how he was going to carry him. Getting in front of him, he crouched down a bit.

"Francis, I can carry off a human without breaking a sweat. It won't be hard for me to carry you." As if to prove his point, he reached out, one arm going around the underside of Francis and the other one to support his back legs. With fluid ease, he stood up to his full height and hoisted the other's body onto his shoulder.

"See? Easy." He mused, giving the other a slight bounce. He then placed Francis back down gently. "I just have to act as if I was having a hard time bringing you back." He then smiled and waved his hand in the air slightly. "And not to worry. They're not very nosey people and they don't cast suspicion my direction. I could just say I washed the blood off if anyone asks."

“Very clever, indeed,” Francis chuckled, moving toward the crevice he’d wriggled down through. “In that case, shall we get going? If I am to prepare you a decent meal for dinner, I must know what ingredients you have for me to work with, and send you out for more if necessary.” Hooking his claws into the jagged rock face, Francis began to climb, noticing that it took far more effort to get out than it did to get in. At least if Matthew caught a human down here trying to injure his heart, the fool would never escape…

“How long have you lived in this area?” he grunted, slithering out onto a small plateau to catch his breath, looking down at the wendigo as Matthew climbed up behind him. “It must have been a while, if you have the villagers’ trust…”

Matthew followed the other up through the crevice that led toward the outside. He couldn't help but wonder just how different their lives would be, now that they would be living together. A mixture of excitement and curiosity welled up inside of him, giving him a huge boost in motivation. Watching how the other was carefully hopping from boulder to boulder, trying to avoid falling down the side of the mountain, Matthew sighed out loud, knowing that it would take forever if he waited for Francis to get to the village. Leaping with ease, he landed right next to Francis.

"Five years, Francis. It helps when you act 'charitable' around them. Meat is a good friend maker," he declared, picking up the other and holding him close.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, not really waiting for an answer as he jumped. Having his hands full, he relied on his feet to get them safely down the mountain. His feet moved too fast to feel the impact of any landings, the sensation similar to that of skating. He dashed, leapt and jumped, weaving his way through rocks and trees, trying not to go _too_ fast, as he didn’t want to cause the other any physical discomfort. Though, he was quite sure that the other was feeling scared from what was probably considered a dangerous ride. It was when they hit the tree line way at the bottom of the mountain that he slowed down to a stop. In front of them was a large empty field, and on the other side was the village; beyond the village was the city, sitting on top of a cliff that overlooked the ocean.

"Here we are. I hope the ride wasn't too much for you," Matthew said, letting the other down so that Francis could relax for a moment.

It had taken a massive force of Francis’ will power to keep from digging his claws into the wendigo’s body, his hackles raised and his eyes wide as he clung to the other with his forepaws, trying to remain completely still so that the other didn’t drop him.

It took a good thirty seconds for the older blonde to realise that they had stopped, at which point he wobbled on his feet and then collapsed onto his belly, feeling compelled to kiss the ground out of sheer relief. His breaths were coming fast and uneven, and he cast an irritated glare at the other creature. “In future, if you intend to manhandle me like that, I would appreciate a bit of warning,” he panted, his body still quivering faintly as he placed a paw over his eyes in hopes of stopping the world from weaving and spinning around him. “Is there a reason you are in such a hurry, mon ami?”

A soft hiss left him that sounded much like laughter, although Matthew tried not to laugh at the other's state. He knew he hadn’t hurt him, so in a way he knew that it wasn't too bad to laugh, seeing how the other collapsed to the ground, thankful that they’d stopped moving.

"Sorry…I just couldn't wait for you to make it down here," Matthew said as he shook out his limbs. Arching his head back, his hands clenched tightly as he began to shrink down to his human form, his neck cracking as his gnarled horns disappeared into his head. Stretching out his human form, he sighed; the clothes that had been stretched over his body now fitted him nicely with a little extra room to move. Kneeling down beside Francis’ prone body, he petted his head.

"But isn't it nice that our travel won't take us long?" Matthew queried, his human voice much softer than that of his other form.  
Francis snorted, letting his paw fall to the ground and gradually opening his eyes as the petting on his head and the softer voice soothing his nerves a little. When his blue eyes opened fully once more, he glanced up at the other, his irritation fading when he caught sight of Matthew’s human form. He was, in a word, beautiful…and that soft, dulcet voice was so painfully enticing. It all combined to make him feel a little unworthy, and reminded him very potently of how long it had been since he’d last had any physical contact. Ah…the young man had asked a question…

Francis gave a slow nod, transfixed by the attractiveness of his benefactor. The sooner he himself could change into human form and bathe, the better. Rising to his feet, he looked toward the town, then met Matthew’s eyes. “I am ready to go with you,” he said softly, preparing himself to go limp once he was on the young man’s shoulders.

Matthew smiled and petted the big cat for a few seconds longer, pleased that Francis had calmed down. All he had to do was to take him to his place without any suspicion; a simple task, since it was common for the villagers to see him bringing in his kills. Crouching down, he took the other into his arms, making sure that he got him as comfortable as possible. Draping him over his shoulders, he walked toward the village at a fast pace; it was only when he got to the outskirts of the town that he slowed down and got into character. His hand gave the other a reassuring stroke as he walked down the streets. A few people waved at him as he walked by, and he schooled his expression into a smile and nodded at them. Luckily for the both of them, he didn't have to walk too far. His home was closer to the edge of the village, standing two floors tall. It was built with stone and lumber, the roof made of clay tiles. Built to the side of it was a balcony where he placed his grinding stone and the other tools he used to keep up the image of a hunter. Moving to the side of his house, he entered the side door, pushing it open with his foot. Entering his home, he carefully placed Francis down, and then closed the door, locking it firmly.

Inside it was a little dark, and it lacked the warmth that a home would traditionally have; Matthew had no trinkets, or anything that added colour to the place. It looked and felt empty. All he had were the things he needed, not wanted. The air was permeated by the common scent of a hunter’s home, the smell of blood and flesh. Though, for someone who had senses stronger than that of a human, it was possible to smell a hint of human. Despite that smell, the place was clean, and nothing seemed to be out of place.

"This is your new home. I hope it's okay," Matthew ventured, looking a little awkward, scratching the back of his head. It felt strange to have someone else inside of his home.

Francis got to his feet and shook himself off, looking around, nostrils flaring slightly at the scent of human blood. It wasn’t exactly a scent he was comfortable with, but it was one he knew from his own encounters, as he’d had to defend himself to the death more than once. However, he anticipated that the other creature had to feed on human flesh every so often to survive, if the tales he recalled about “the wendigo” from his youth were anything to go by. 

He smiled a little at Matthew’s anxiety, rubbing his head reassuringly against the younger male’s hip. “Home is what one makes of it, mon ami. To have four walls and a roof is enough for me.” He looked up at his host, ears tilting back a little. “Could I…borrow some clothes? And bathe?” 

Francis' touch helped soothe Matthew’s worries; he was glad that the other didn't mind his place, as he wasn't terribly sure what others looked for in a home. Matt reached down and petted the other, finding that the simple act helped to calm him. Nodding his head, Matthew motioned for the other to follow him upstairs into one of the rooms. Inside was where he kept the heated water, stored in a large metal barrel with a small fire burning under it. In the center of the room was a copper tub, designed for someone to be able to lean back and relax. Picking up a bucket, he turned the tap of the water heater and filled it up, filling up the bathtub one bucket at a time. Once filled, he pulled out a simple towel from a wooden cupboard and set a bar of soap atop it. 

"If you could change and get in, I'll go and see if I can find some clothes for you," Matthew said in passing, deciding not to remain in the same room when Francis turned to his human form, in order to give him some privacy. Placing the towel and soap down on the small table next to the tub, he exited the room to find the other some clothes…ones that would hopefully fit.

Francis waited until a minute after Matthew had departed before closing his eyes and beginning to concentrate. He had a moment of panic when the change didn’t begin, then gasped as it commenced and progressed far more slowly and painfully than he had ever remembered it being.

Perhaps remaining in animal form for so long had been a foolhardy idea, but he’d really had no reason to take human form. He’d felt that he didn’t belong in the human world any longer, so he had relinquished it…

When he was finally in his old body once again, Francis curled up on the floor for a few minutes, panting and shivering, soaked from head to toe in sweat from exertion. When his vision cleared again, he grabbed the edge of the tub, using it to steady himself as he hauled his body up and climbed into the water. He groaned softly as the heat embraced his aching form, sinking down into the hot water and closing his eyes in utter bliss, dunking his head under and running his fingers through his hair before surfacing again. Francis leaned back against the edge of the tub, gazing up at the ceiling for a little while before reaching over and picking up the soap, running it over his skin. He didn’t look as he ran it over his chest and shoulders, where thick scars from claws identical to his own showed the violence of the one who had rended his flesh during his last few weeks as a human. His neck was marred by scars from razor sharp teeth, although they were smaller and fainter, having healed a little better than the claw marks due to the whims of the lycan that had changed him. She’d left the claw marks on his upper back, chest and shoulders as a form of punishment for his vanity, and they served their purpose very well. He tended to avoid mirrors, and had not had full intercourse since that day; not just because of the scars, but out of fear that lycanthropy might be transmitted sexually and not just through saliva penetrating a wound.

In the meantime, Matthew had walked into his room in search of extra clothes. The thick curtains were drawn shut, blocking out any view of the outside. There were some old wooden drawers and a large wardrobe in the corner of his room. His bed was something he had made himself, though not the blankets and pillows that adorned it. He had made the mattress, collecting goose feathers and making it into a large, plump mattress that was as soft as a cloud. A little lumpy, but even the lumps were soft. After living in the wild for so long, he’d developed a love of being comfortable. Searching his wardrobe, Matthew picked out a simple white long-sleeved top and a pair of brown slacks. Folding them over his arm, he walked back to the bathroom. 

Francis lifted his head when he heard Matthew approaching, and he sunk down into the water a little more, averting his gaze and lifting one of his feet to wash it.

At the door, Matthew paused for a moment, tapping on the doorframe lightly before entering. The first thing he noticed was a mop of blond hair sticking out from the surface of the water…but he couldn't tell what Francis looked like, at the moment. 

"I have some clothes for you," Matthew said, watching as the other focused more on scrubbing his foot than looking over at him. He paused for a moment, glancing away from the other as he found himself staring. Matthew was curious…he wanted to see what Francis looked like.

"Would... you like it if I poured some hot water over your head?" The silence in the room with Francis half-hiding in the tub as he washed himself caused Matthew to feel confused. He didn't really know what he should do here, or if he should leave the other alone for the time being.

Francis glanced at the lad for a moment, gradually relaxing and sighing softly as he sat up in the tub and nodded. “Oui,” he murmured, placing his hands discreetly between his legs and closing his eyes so that the water didn’t get into them. “Merci, again, for opening your home to me,” Francis said softly, finding that the aches and pains from his transformation were beginning to fade, the heat of the water soothing his muscles. “And for the clothing. I am good at making it, you know. If you get me materials…I can make you some nice clothes.” Because the last thing in the world that Francis wanted was to become a freeloader, especially when he was staying with someone as young and beautiful and vulnerable as Matthew.

Going over to the water heater, Matthew filled up the bucket, still listening to the other. His shoulders shrugged gently at the other's offer of making him nice clothes. He wasn't used to luxury, or to taking the time to pamper himself. But if doing those things would make Francis happy, he would get him the things he needed to do what he said he could do. 

Standing behind the tub, Matthew slowly poured the water over Francis’ head, watching as some of the water trailed down over the back of his shoulders. Being this close to Francis, he took the time to get a good look at him; with the other's upper half now above the water, he could easily see the scars that littered his body. Matthew's eyes darted to each one that he saw, his fingers itching to reach out and touch them. 

The marks on Francis’ body did not disgust him…not one bit. In fact, he was drawn to them, finding them fascinating. Matthew's body healed too quickly for him to get any scars, thus giving rise to his curiosity about them. Getting up, he moved to the side of the tub so that he could see the other's face, curious to see if there were any more scars. Crouching down onto his knees, he rested his arm on the edge of the bathtub. 

Gazing upward slightly, Matt finally saw the other's face. It was elegant, handsome...he had to admit, Francis was attractive. The blue eyes that Francis possessed in cat form were the same in his human form, and it really suited his face. Glancing down, Matthew noticed more scars on his body, guessing based on their placement that they had been left on purpose. Reaching out, he gently ran a couple of his fingertips over one nasty mark on Francis’ collarbone.

"Did it hurt?" He mumbled, lazily looking over the scars as his fingers continued to explore the marks.

Francis’ cheeks coloured slightly at the other’s curious scrutiny, a soft gasp hitching in his throat at Matthew’s touch. The other was so close…and he couldn’t help but wonder if the wendigo had ever gotten this close to another being before. As such, he was very careful not to recoil as the scars he tried his best to ignore were explored with the tips of those delicate fingers.

His blue eyes flickered slightly as a wash of memories flooded his mind, and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It was excruciating. I did not know that lycans truly existed until I felt her fury.” Francis pursed his lips slightly, rubbing the soap over his palms and washing his face, rinsing it off before continuing. One hand drifted up to the claw marks on his right shoulder, his gaze distant as he recalled the events. “I was making love to her,” he murmured, a bitter and somewhat anguished smile coming to his lips, “…or, I thought I was. Once those claws dug into my back, I realised that love had never had anything to do with our coupling.” He ran the soap over his chest and stomach, his voice low as he spoke. “I admit, I was a fickle creature. I loved men and women, loved their bodies, their company…I loved romance, seduction, the challenge of coaxing someone into bed with me. It was all a game to me, back then, and I did not realise that it was a game some women did not appreciate.” The smile faded and Francis sighed, washing between his legs and running the soap along the undersides of his thighs. “Her name was Amelie. I had shared a passionate night with her sister Loraine while I was in their village picking up some imported goods a year before, and I was back on a return trip. When Amelie took me aside and plied her hand at seducing me, like the shallow creature I was, I did not refuse.” Francis’ voice was soft as he set the soap aside, gazing down into the cloudy water as he spoke. “She transformed and made these marks on me, and I believed that Death had come for me as a lioness’ jaws closed around my throat. But rather than tearing it out, she threw me against the wall, and as I lay on the floor bleeding, she informed me of what I had done.”

The Frenchman’s golden brows drew together, his expression one of a deep, soul-penetrating regret as he spoke. “I did not believe I was capable of fathering a child, but some cruel stars must have been in alignment the night I was with Loraine. Apparently…she bore a child from our coupling.” His fists clenched under the water, then relaxed again as he sighed. “The child took her life as it came into the world, and Amelie destroyed it because she could not destroy me. But then, three months later, I gave her the opportunity to do so.” 

Francis looked to Matthew for a moment, his expression remorseful as he looked away again. “I had no idea. And if I had, I would have married the girl. I had been married before, to a woman who had already borne two children, who I treasured as my own, but…when I could not produce a third child after years of trying, she had no more use for me. I do not begrudge her that,” he mumbled, shrugging a shoulder. “After all, how can one see a man as a man, if he cannot sire offspring?” A bitter chuckle escaped him, and he leaned back against the edge of the tub again, gazing at the ceiling. “I told Amelie she had every right to kill me for what I had done. I wanted to die myself, upon learning what had happened. But it was not to be. I would live eternally, with the knowledge of my crime, wearing these marks as a reminder of what I had done.” Francis touched the marks, sighing heavily. “This was her vengeance. I accept it.”

Matthew’s fingers had slipped away from the other as Francis told his tale. He folded his arms on the edge of the bath and laid his head on them as he listened, feeling a part of Francis’ sadness as he spoke about his past. Matt couldn't remember much about the time when he himself had been human, so he had to imagine and play out the events in his mind as Francis spoke of them. Looking into the other's eyes, he could see the sorrow rife in the crystalline depths. It was something he had always known: that no one could fake any type of emotion with their eyes; Matthew could always tell what someone was feeling by looking into them. This man had been through a lot as a human, and as a Lycan; having lost his children, one of them to a cruel and violent fate… 

Matthew couldn’t even fathom experiencing a loss that would make a person beg for death. He was brought into the world as a Wendigo because he wanted to live; Francis was changed because he wanted to die. That weighed heavily on his mind, and he found that his own expression was almost matching the one on Francis’ face. A part of him felt hopeless; that he could do nothing for his new and only friend…that what had happened could never be undone for the other…

"I wish...there was something I could say that could make it better. I can't even relate with something of my own past. I... I don't even think I'm capable of remembering my human past," Matthew said as his eyes cast downwards.

"I have flashes, sometimes, but they go away so quickly that I can't remember them. My latest memory....it was of my last moments of being a human." His eyes seemed to glaze over as he thought back to it. "I remember the cold, the pain and the hunger. I didn't want to die. I…I think I found someone." His eyes slipped closed and he turned his head slightly, tuning into that memory.

"I remember greedily filling my stomach. How warm it was, how the pain just melted away. Then...it was like a fever. I was in agony, but I couldn't feel any pain. I couldn't focus. I was delirious. The snow...it felt so inviting. I wanted to ease my mind. So I fell asleep...and I was human no more." A shudder went through him. "When I woke up…oh, gods, the hunger...it was like someone was pulling apart my insides. It filled me with anger, and hunger so ravenous that I would eat parts of myself." Matthew then paused, his hand coming up to gently touch his lips; he was glad that they grew back every time. "I don't want to go back to that. Never again."

Stirred out of his own misery by the other shifter’s soft voice, Francis listened intently to the wendigo’s tale, moved by the younger blonde’s compassion. When Matt finished, Francis reached out and gently ran his hand through his soft, golden hair. He could sense that the lad was younger than himself—had been younger when he was changed into what he had become. For some reason, it inspired a sense of paternal affection that he hadn’t felt in decades, and he felt the need to comfort the other more than he felt the need to receive comfort himself. Sliding his fingers through the blonde’s tresses, he cupped the back of Matthew’s head and drew him against his shoulder for a damp half-hug, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I have a feeling that you will not have to go back to that,” Francis reassured the other blonde. 

Matthew leaned into Francis’ touch, relaxing visibly as he felt those fingers going through his hair. Rather than pulling away, he kept his eyes closed and sighed out, enjoying being close to someone for once. Gently, he nodded his head against the other's shoulder as he spoke, uncaring that he was getting a little wet. He didn't know why he felt this way around Francis…the other just seemed to make him feel safe and wanted. 

Francis continued to stroke the younger shifter’s hair when he felt the other nod his head. “You have survived very well since your change, and have obviously adapted and learned enough as you grew that you are able to live among humans without being discovered. That takes cunning and talent, two things that are very necessary for survival,” Francis said as he finally released the blonde and rose to his feet, stepping out of the tub and using the towel to dry off. “And do not fret about your human memories. There are times when I wish that I could forget all of mine…but in a way, it is better that I do not. My fall from grace taught me humility, and it taught me to respect the feelings of other people just as much as my own, on the rare times that humans would associate with me after the change. If I were to forget my painful memories, I would lose those lessons.”

When Francis got up, Matthew simply looked downwards as he rose to his feet. Turning slightly to the side, he gave the other some privacy, his arms folded across his chest. It was a little strange, having someone naked in the same room as you, walking around. He wasn't really used to that, and he absently started to tug on a lock of hair by his ear. He wasn't really aware of how shy he looked; Matthew didn't even know that he was reacting in such a way.

"I guess you're right," he mentioned, shuffling his feet.

Picking up on the tone of Matthew’s voice, Francis glanced over his shoulder as he pulled the slacks on, a charming smile coming to his lips. The boy’s sweetness was so endearing, it warmed his heart and eased some of the heavy sorrows from his mind. He had forgotten how refreshing innocence could be.

“And what about you?” he ventured, pulling the shirt on and tucking it into the slacks before buttoning them up. “Were you ever married, little one?” Decades before, it would have been a ploy at seduction…however, now that life had taught him several painful lessons, it was more of an attempt to learn about the other’s life and personality. He had been so very long without any companions, he was not about to destroy his chance at a long-term friendship by flirting right off the bat. For the first time, he was almost thankful that he had been humbled, as his former self would have ravished Matthew and left him behind to pick up the pieces on his own. Now, he had more compassion than that…it would be up to the wendigo, whether something developed between them.

Matthew merely blinked as if he was lost in thought when he heard Francis speak. Turning around, he tilted his head at the question. "Married?" Matthew paused for a moment, searching the back of his mind before glancing down to his ring finger.

"I...I'm not sure..." Images of a kind-looking woman flashed inside his mind. Curvy, yet strong set. Pale blond hair... A soft whine left him, and he looked down as he ran his fingers through his hair. Why did that image hurt his chest? Matthew frantically searched his mind to try and find the answers to that, but his thought process was interrupted by the soft sounds of something slowly dripping onto the floor. Lifting his head up, he felt trickles of tears rolling down his face. Shocked, he slowly lifted his hand up to touch a wet cheek. How could he be crying? Matthew took in a shaky breath to try to calm himself.

Francis felt his breath seize in his chest, a crushing sensation closing in on his heart at the sight of the blonde’s tears. His arms were wrapped tightly around the other before he could think better of it, one hand stroking Matthew’s hair as he held the other close. “Forgive me…forgive me, Matthieu, I had forgotten about your memory…” His expression was resolute, blue eyes hardening with conviction. “Do not cry…if you had a lover, then I will do everything in my power to help you find her again. Whenever a memory surfaces, even if you must wake me from sleep, I wish for you to tell me. I have travelled far and once knew many people…there is a chance that if she is alive, I can find her for you.” 

Matthew’s eyes widened, unable to blink when he felt Francis wrap his arms around him. He felt himself sinking into the other’s embrace, closing his eyes as he felt the pain in his chest fade away. Matthew leaned his head against the other’s shoulder and let it rest there. Even though it had hurt when that tiny memory surfaced, he let a smile form on his lips. Honestly, he never thought that he could remember anything from his past, but what had just happened and what Francis said made it seem that it was possible. That one day, he could remember.

“It’s alright. I’m not upset. Thank you.” He pulled back gently from the other, shaking his head at the mention of finding the woman in that appeared in his memory. 

“Everyone that knew me as a human thinks me dead. I can’t do that to them…show up, just for them to see that I’m no longer human. Even if I do find the ones from my memories, I can’t be with them,” Matthew explained softly with downcast eyes, fixing the collar of Francis’ shirt just for something to focus on. “But thank you for wanting to help with my memories.”

“If they truly loved you, they would accept you, no matter what you have become,” Francis insisted softly, although he quieted as Matthew straightened out his collar. Crestfallen that his offer to help had amounted to nothing, he nodded absently at the wendigo’s thanks. “Oui…oui. Anything I can do that will be of use to you,” he mumbled, gathering up the towel and using it to dry his hair, needing the barrier between them while he regained his good sense. “I…will make dinner, if you show me where your kitchen is. I am hoping it is not as bare as the rest of your home?”

As nice as what Francis had said was, Matthew knew the chances of anyone… well, of a human accepting him after knowing what he was, were slim to none. He would rather not risk the conflict. As his hands left the other’s collar, he reached back to scratch the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what was considered ‘bare’ for a kitchen. Walking out in front of Francis, he got him to follow him into the kitchen. Inside there was a fire pit built into the wall were a large pot was placed. To the side was a wood stove and a stone counter top. The entire place looked unused. 

“I don’t really know if I have a lot. Meat, yes, but…” Matthew trailed off, opening the pantry. Inside was a sack of potatoes and a few onions, and not a single type of spice in sight. “I, uh… don’t really cook that much,” he confessed, feeling a little put on the spot. Normally he didn’t cook anything at all, and just ate everything raw. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking.

Francis blinked at the bare cupboards, then relaxed, chuckling softly. “Oui, oui, that much is obvious, mon petit oiseau. In that case, I will need a pen and paper,” he declared, going over to the wood stove and opening the grate, making a face. “Ehhh, I’ll have to clean this before it can be used,” he muttered, spotting a small bucket and the broom and pan for cleaning the stove. “You at least have a ladle, a wooden spoon, and some bowls for serving, I hope?” He rolled up his sleeves to the elbows and began to sweep the thick soot and bits of charcoal out of the bottom of the stove and into the bucket, trying not to breathe the dust in as he worked. “Honestly, Matthieu, food is more than just sustenance. You shouldn’t abuse it so, by eating it raw every time. Your palate must be weeping from deprivation by now. Go and get me a pen and paper, and I shall make you a list of things to get me, so that I may prepare you a wonderful ragout.”


End file.
